


Wesley's Wife

by stonegirl77



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: After Wesley's death, F/M, Sad, Wesley is married, character death offscreen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 04:37:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5729779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonegirl77/pseuds/stonegirl77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're making dinner, wondering if James is going to be home for dinner tonight, when you hear his knock at the door. </p><p>Except that it's not your husband. It's his boss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wesley's Wife

**Author's Note:**

> So I finally finished Daredevil last night (I know, I know, it took forever), and this plot bunny has been bugging me ever since Wesley got himself shot by Karen. 
> 
> What if he had a wife? I wondered. Would Fisk go and tell her in person?   
> So I wrote it. 
> 
> It's not my usual, this isn't a happy ending, this isn't light and fluffy. It's sad, and dark, and if that's your thing, I hope you enjoy!

The knock on the door came just as I was tasting the risotto for the last time. I went to the door as the pattern started to repeat. Two knocks, then three, then two.

“I know why you have this rule about being secretive, love,” I said, staring the process of unlocking the door, “but there are biometrics on this thing. Are you really telling me that you wouldn’t even trust yourself not to have a door to your own house?” The LED screen showing outside lit up, and I stopped.

It wasn’t James.

“Why, Mr. Fisk,” I said, pushing the button that opened the last lock. “What a lovely…” I stopped talking as Mr. Fisk stood in my doorway. He looked distraught.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Is….” My heart stopped as his face fell even further. “No,” I stammered, retreating into the apartment. “No. James… Is he?” There weren’t many reasons my husband’s boss and best friend would show up here, alone and unannounced.

“Mrs. Wesley,” he said, shutting the door behind him as he entered. "Mrs. Wesley, Y/N," he began again, then broke off. "Perhaps you should be sitting for this." 

My face felt very cold suddenly, and I was gripping onto the door jamb for support. "No," I said, disagreeing politely. "Please, just tell me what it is."

"Y/N," he said, looking down at his hands, then back at me, and I wanted to scream at him, to claw into his mind and prise the information out with my fingers, if I had to. "We... Did you hear about the benefit, a few days ago?" 

I nodded, confused. "James was talking about it," I said. "And.." I thought I remembered, "didn't some people get food poisoning?" 

Mr. Fisk was nodding. "Yes, although it wasn't food poisoning - we kept it out of the papers, but several people were poisoned... Including Vanessa."

My hand covered my mouth, my spare hand going to Mr. Fisk's arm, trying to convey my sympathy. "Oh, Mr. Fisk, I'm so sorry! Is she all right - is there anything I can do?" I’d met Vanessa a few weeks earlier - a lovely lady, strong and the type of woman, I’d thought, who could bully Mr. Fisk into taking better care of himself.

Mr. Fisk smiled, but it was a sad one. "She will make a full recovery, thank you. I've been at the hospital ever since, you see, waiting for her to wake up, and Wesley... Wesley was handling other matters for me."

 _Was._ "Was?" 

"I tried calling him for the first time yesterday." Mr. Fisk had his hand on my forearm now, and I braced for impact, for whatever hospital I was going to have to visit. "He didn't reply, which, as you know, is unlike him."

"Exceedingly," I agreed shakily. 

"We found him this morning. He's dead."

"No." _No._ No no no. Not possible. Not my James, my suit-wearing, devilishly handsome, drily funny, perfect husband. He couldn't be. "No, it must be someone else."

I was on the floor suddenly, still clutching the door jamb, and Mr. Fisk was looking at me in sympathy, crouching next to me. "I'm afraid not," he said. 

I didn't even recognise the noise that was coming from my throat, somewhere between a moan and a wail, but very quiet. Mr. Fisk reached into his jacket, feeling around for something. A wedding ring, gold. James' wedding band, something he never would have taken off. Not willingly, not ever. He didn’t take it off to wash his hands or take a shower. Or anything else. He said he always wore it because it was the only part of me he could always have with him, no matter what he was doing. Fisk pressed it into my hand and I brought it closer, turning it in my fingers, fingers I could barely feel. 

Writing glinted on the inside. _Love always_ , it read, and I was suddenly aware of the tears running down my face. I remembered the last time I'd seen the inside of that ring, on my wedding day twelve years ago, right before I’d slid it onto James’ finger.

"How?" I whispered, turning the ring in my fingers, watching it glint in the light. 

"He was shot." All the air went out of my lungs in one fell swoop. "We don't know who or how." My eyes found Fisk's face. 

"You find out," I told him. "Find out who killed my husband. Who sacrificed himself for your work. Your work that kept him away from me. For years. Not that either of us complained.” Fisk closed his eyes, but I kept going, voice suddenly very steady. “You find out who shot James, and if you don’t let me kill the bastard myself, then you kill him, and bring me proof. It’s the least you can do.” My hand was clutching his sleeve again. “Promise me, Mr. Fisk.”

Mr. Fisk’s eyes reopened and met mine. “I promise,” he said. “Wesley will be avenged.”

“Good.” I let my head fall back against the wall. “Now leave, please.” The grief was coming back, a solid wall of despair and loneliness, and I didn’t want anyone there, didn’t think I could bear to have anyone there, not when the only person I wanted was never going to come home again, never going to wrap his arms around me and tell me I was his just as he was mine.

“Are you sure? I can stay, or have men stay with you.” I shook my head.

“No. Go. Please. I need…” _James, I need James._ “I need to be alone. You’ll tell me what to do about funeral arrangements?”

Fisk nodded. “I am so sorry. He was my friend.”

I nodded. “I know. You were his best man.” _But he was my husband._

“If there’s anything I can do?”

The wall of grief was getting closer, and I clutched James’ ring closer, pulling it into my chest. “Find the bastard,” I repeated. Fisk nodded.

“Take care, please,” he said, and went to the door. I didn’t have any words left for him. I heard the door shut and the floodgates opened.

All I could feel was the ring in my hand, and all I could hear was that strange sound, the wail crossed with a moan that seemed to emanate from every wall.

I was alone.


End file.
